


Your Bones

by InsertTheWitty



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, sealand shows up briefly, sweden and finland don't show up for a while, there's violence but not to descriptive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:25:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3407201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertTheWitty/pseuds/InsertTheWitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The snow just kept coming, wind howling and sending sharp pin needles of cold through his thin clothes. Mathias could feel his world crashing down around him. Even with all his winters and storms, he could have swore the sky never looked so gray.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Walking barefoot in the snow

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I'm posting, again because I took it down. I wasn't happy with it and there are still so many things I could have done better, but anyhow I hope you enjoy!

In the spring we made a boat  
Out of feathers, out of bones.  
We set fire to our homes,  
Walking barefoot in the snow.

* * *

 

It was a brutal winter. The air was much colder after one of the hottest summers many had ever experience in this small village. The lack a people on the roads was worrying. When the noise reached his ears bare feet a tad large even for a boy his age slapped the cobblestone road, ran at full speed toward a loud gathering in the middle of the village square. 

The crowd was huge, consisting of almost every person in the village all gathered in the square. There was a pyre The wooden stake in the center reached the top if some of the surrounding buildings, though not as tall of the church directly behind it. The crowd was thickly packed together around the platform to the left of the pyre, which on it the priest of the village was addressing the people, beside him were what looked like two burly men, maybe three holding two figures, a man and a woman from the looks of it, whose faces he couldn't see from where he was hiding behind a large house. Mathias peaked out more from behind the house's back wall, see that there was definitely three men holding the two captives, one for the woman and two for the man whose back seemed to be heaving, like he had been kicking and screaming, only recently deciding to give it a rest. His eyes widened as he clutched the side of the his hiding place till his knuckles turned white. 

The snow around them swirled and blurred his already limited vision, his thoughts racing as he silently prayed to any gods that happened to be listening that the people held prisoner on that platform where not who he thought they were. His eyes searched the crowd in vain, knowing that even if they weren't the ones captive on the platform, they would never come to a gathering like this. Mathias hoped anyhow, and when his searching the crowd turned out to be fruitless, cold dread grabbed onto his heart and dug in its claws. He felt numb, and not just from the cold.

The priest spoke for the first time since Mathias had arrived at the square, his voice condescending and sending red hot spikes of rage straight through the cloud of fear hanging over his mind.

"These vermin have brought us misfortune for too long!" is how the priest began his speech, his balding head covered in a snow dusted black hat and his fat face a picture of barely concealed smugness and easy to pick out in a sea of faces clearly starving. That priest made him sick. 

The priest continued, "Not only have they committed acts against God, oh no, but acts against their fellow men! If they even deserve the privilege of being labeled human, God's most precious creation." Mathias clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. The priest shook his head in a way that he may have been aimed to seem disappointed, but all Mathias saw, even from his distance was the gleam of victory in his eyes and mocking on his face. It took all of his willpower not to burst into the square just so he had even the slightest chance of wrapping his hands around that bastard's neck.  

The faces of some in the crowd where upset looking, almost sad, and the fact that he knew them all made the hand of dread around his heart squeeze. He felt a very strange swirling mix of rage and nausea in the pit of his stomach, suddenly aware of the frost biting his fingers and toes. 

The snow was coming down harder, faster, stinging his face with such a renewed vigor that he began to tune out to the priest and his nonsense drawl to focus on the fierce cold penetrating his thin clothes. That was a mistake, he realized, as the rising volume of the crowd snapped him out of his thoughts and brought his attention back to what it should have been on in the first place. 

Mathias tuned back into what that pig of a priest was saying, and he immediately wished he didn't after the priest's words registered. 

"Åse Bondevik, you are hereby charged with witchcraft and treason against this village. Bárekr Bondevik, you are also charged with treason and the murder of Dagfin Jørgensen. Do either of you have any words to speak in your defense?" It was not a question the priest expected an answer to. 

His eyes felt stretched as they widened further in shock, the dread replaced entirely with an all consuming fear he couldn't force down. Mathias felt bile rise in his throat, and if he had had something to eat for breakfast earlier that morning, he probably would have thrown it up. He ran, no longer caring if he was spotted in his panic, until he reached a building that faced the platform on the other side of the small square. There was no more denying who was on that platform. 

* * *

 

Once Mathias got a behind what he believed was the village bakery if his memory served him correctly, his mind reeled once he saw their faces and he took a step back. Anete had a fist shaped bruise on her left cheek, her hair down and a bit tangled,  the blond hair falling into her face where just earlier that morning it had been neat and tied up in the tight bun she always wore. In comparison, it was obvious that whatever struggle the two had been in, Bárekr had fared much worse than Anete had. He was heaving like he had thought, mouth and nose bloodied with multiple bruises, big and small, visible between the tears in his shirt. Despite how much Mathias hated the priest with all his heart, thinking back to what the a Father had said, he had to wonder, as he locked his gaze on Bárekr's shirt, how much of the blood on him was his. Mathias stopped that train of thought dead in it's tracks, knowing that Bárekr would do anything necessary to protect them, all of them, including him. He locked onto Bárekr's bloody shirt again. Anything at all. 

He cut of his own thoughts by looking into Åse's face, then Bárekr's, before he forced himself to look away. He almost punched the rough brick wall of the bakery. They looked calm, almost accepting of this. Åse more than Bárekr, which Mathias expected considering how hard he must have fought before he had arrived, just like he had always known him to, but the people who had always been strong no matter what for his entire life seemed to have just given up entirely. No, their faces weren't accepting, not really, is the conclusion he came to once his mind had cleared a bit and he could really look at them. Their expressions were more tired than anything else. The kind that's bone deep, that only comes after years of the world feeling like it's going to crush you. 

Åse's cool gaze searched around the square in silence, as if she was looking for something and she seemed almost relieved when she didn't find it. That is, until she caught his gaze. The relief that passed on her face told that she knew what his being here meant, but it immediately changed over into something akin to anguish when she realized that also meant for what he had seen, what he knew.

Mathias made a move to leave from behind the building, the rage from seeing them like this blocking out everything else, the fear, the growing pain turned numbness from the winter cold and snow that was now rising to cover his feet, the pressure of what this entire horrible situation meant. Everything. Then she shook her head, a quick and tiny motion but it stopped him dead in his tracks. She moved her head to the right, toward Bárekr, and Mathias saw her mouth move. Whatever she said made Bárekr snap back to attention, and with a jerk of her chin in his direction, Mathias made eye contact with the man who saved his life. Bárekr's eyes looked so tired, the bags under his warm brown eyes visible from across the square, but in some strange way peaceful. He was still one foot out from behind the bakery, and the soft smile that Bárekr sent him was a warm as freshly baked bread. In truth, everything about the man was warm, to his strong arms to his smile. His vision blurred. Mathias wanted to cry.

The priest spoke after a few minutes had passed and Åse and Bárekr said nothing. 

"Well, if you have nothing to say in your defence, I hereby, by the power invested in me by God Almighty, sentence you both to burn at the stake."

The snow just kept coming, wind howling and sending sharp pin needles of cold through his thin clothes. Mathias could feel his world crashing down around him. Even with all his winters and storms, he could have swore the sky never seemed so gray.

The crowd roared their approval, only a few staying quiet amongst the noise. After the yelling died down, someone spoke up. 

"Father Hellmuth, Åse is this village's best and only healer, she has saved many of our lives countless times. I can't imagine her being the reason for our suffering, even if I did believe she was a witch." Said a plump woman with rosy cheeks a bit away from the platform, her haired braided and wrapped in furs that clearly told of her status. She held a small child also wrapped in furs to her chest. The child might have been sleeping through all the commotion. 

"And that man, that man taught my boy more than I could have ever hoped to know about this world at his age, even now. He has done all our children some good  I don't think we can ever repay him for." Came another voice, this time an aging man holding the thin hand of a boy who looked about seven, his eyes filled with horror at the reality that he was probably going to see his teacher burn. 

There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd that were getting louder every passing second, as people took what the two said into consideration. Mathias' heart filled with a renewed hope. It was crushed when Father Hellmuth, in all his wickedness, opened his mouth to argue why Åse and Bárekr deserved the fate he had dealt them, but a woman in the crowd did it for him

"Are you fools really even considering about arguing for their lives?" She bellowed, her face red with fresh tear tracks. She continued. "They killed him! That man you say did your children good took away my child's father before he even got to chance to meet them!"

Mathias felt his heart clenched, because it was then that he noticed this woman was very pregnant. Bárekr flinched at Mrs. Jørgensen outburst, it almost seemed like he was going to open his mouth and say something, but along with being very pregnant, Mrs. Jørgensen was also very angry and she was not done. 

"And that bitch!" Her finger pointed straight at Åse, staring her in the eye. "She is the reason why we all starve, she is the reason our crops failed and she is a witch, a filthy witch and her and that godforsaken man have been planning our demise for years!" Mrs. Jørgensen turned her eyes to the priest. "Isn't that what you said, Father Hellmuth?"

Father Hellmuth smiled an ugly smile, a cruel one, before schooling his face into neutrality. "Yes, yes I did, Brettiva and that is all very true. She is why we starve, why we have no money and why we all face death now!" Lies. It was because of that liar on the platform's greed and the foolish war raging in lands far from there. Mathias clenched his fists. Åse caught his eye again and shook her head. Right now she was the only thing keeping him still and out of sight.

"Tell me, don't you find it odd how she could cure even the worst ailments, how things any normal healer would have no power to treat suddenly became child's play in her hands? It has to be the work of magic, what else would it be?!" Mathias sneered, tighten his fist around the edge of the bakery until his hands dug into the brick hard enough to bleed. "She raked in whatever money we could scrounge up from our limited funds, and I think that in God's name it would be safe to say she did something to cause at least some of the injuries and illnesses she treated, if not all!  _These_   _are the dangers of witches!_  And now that we have nothing to offer her? She kills us slowly under the guise of crop failure! This is why she is sentenced to death, along with her  _murderer_  of a husband. We can get another healer, a real healer that won't _kill us_  the moment we run out of money!" 

Mathias saw red.

The deafening howls of approval from the crowd made his stomach twist. Then it got worse.

"Didn't the bitch and that bastard have kids, where are they?" yelled a voice from somewhere in the crowd he couldn't pinpoint.

His heart skipped a beat.

Åse and Bárekr's faces morphed from a mutual disgust at Father Hellmuth's words into pure terror. Åse called out a desperate plea of "Don't, please, please, they're children!  _Children._ " On the last syllable her voice cracked. Mrs. Jørgensen grinned madly then, her smile gleaming just like her silver wedding band in the dim morning light. She spat at Åse's feet from her place in front of the platform. "The children of witches are witches. No matter their age" Her silent meaning was clear.  _You took my family from me, die knowing that the rest of yours is going down with you._

And her voice was cold as the snow that now went up to his bare heels.

Father Hellmuth seemed almost giddy at the reminder of Åse and Bárekr's children's existence. "Who volunteers to go and get their children?"

Before a word could be uttered by anyone else, Mathias finally stepped out completely from behind the baker's shop and started walking toward the platform. The crowd parted for him, people looking him up and down incredulously. They knew who he was.

Mathias stopped a few feet away, just close enough to see everyone on its face clearly. 

He spoke for the first time since he arrived at the square, which seemed like lifetime ago. 

"I'll go and get them." The weight of his words hung in the silence, and then someone else from the crowd, an old man who was obviously drunk from how he slurred his words got in his face and asked and asked in an odd drawl, "You, yer friends with these people, aren't ya? How do we know ya ain't a witch too, huh?"

Mathias did his best to act disgusted, which honestly wasn't hard with beer breath in his face. "Like I would befriend witches. I didn't know until today, and I wanna to go and get 'em so I can watch 'em burn for lyin' to me."

The mid-morning drunkard seemed convinced. Åse's expression was afraid bordering on terrified, but he tried to tell with his eyes what he meant to do. As her eyes melted from fear to relief, a tiny smile on her face, he knew she understood. She nodded before quickly schooling her face back into an expression of horror while Father Hellmuth leaned down to look him closely in the eye, and Mathias used his anger toward the man to make his eyes seem truly enraged.

Father Hellmuth continued to look him in the eye as he asked, "And what do you intend to do if they do not follow you here?"

The air seemed to grow even colder. He swallowed heavily, but all the same answered because he had to. 

"I'll burn their house down with the little bastards inside it."

Åse screamed. Bárekr fought his captors with a renewed vigor. The crowd, no at this point crowd sounded to civil. The  _mob_  hollered, their noise as eerie and deathly terrifying as a thousand screaming banshees. And Mathias just kept staring into that evil, fat priest's eyes until the son of bitch looked away. 

"Very well, get a move on then." With a wave of the hand, he was dismissed. Father Hellmuth turned toward the pyre. "Light it." The bastard's voice was ice. The pyre was lit, blaze catching quickly, reflecting the gleam in the people's eye. They knew what they would witness next. Mathias couldn't remember a time where he felt more sickened.

He walked away from the pyre as calmly as he could when really all he wanted to do was run, run as far and as fast from these horrible, monstrous people as possible. From the pyre and the liar on the platform's victory. To run home like none this was happening.

He used his numb feet to walk across the cold cobblestones, to just out of the square and almost past the baker's shop before he allowed himself to look back. Åse piercing gaze was pointed straight at him while Bárekr caused a commotion like he always does to keep the attention on the platform. So he understood too. 

Åse smiled at him, and she was as beautiful as she had always been, the strong, caring, beautiful woman he used to call a goddess in his younger years. She smiled and as he imprinted her face in his memory, Bárekr's too, knowing this was the last time he would ever see either of them  though he didn't want to believe it, and he let the tears he had been holding back fall. He knew that no one was looking at him, and even if they were, he didn't care if he looked weak. Not this time.

She said something. Over and over again until he could piece it together and nod, the motion sealing a promise he swore he'd keep at any cost. She started screaming again, pleading, crying. In that moment he wished he was deaf so her screams couldn't send chills down his spine. Mathias turned and ran, ran as quick and as swift as he could with his frozen toes. He ran until Åse's hysterical screams and Bárekr's roars of rage faded into quiet.  He ran until the cobblestone streets with it's loose rocks digging into his bare feet became worn and packed dirt roads. Ran until large stone and brick buildings became significantly smaller wood houses. Ran until home just a dozen feet away. He ran, all the while his memories provided Åse's voice so that her last plea, the thing she put faith in him to do and the weight that came with the promise he now carried, could ring in his ears as the tears froze on his cheeks.

_"Protect them."_

So he ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear this is crazy. Please don't think I'm ever going to abandon this, I've promised myself I'm going to finish it and I will, it just may a take a little time. Or a lot of time. I'm sorry, I'm not very god at keeping time. But it will be completed someday. Maybe I should write these chapters ahead of time. Thank you for reading this and I really hope that it was alright! If you don't mind, a kudos would be great, and a comment would absolutely make my day! I'm gonna shush now, but again thanks for taking time out your day to read this!


	2. Distant rhythm of the drum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lukas may or may not be panicking. His parents suddenly left him alone in the house to look after Emil, only telling him to not leave the house or open the door for anyone unless it was them or Mathias before disappearing. That had been almost an hour ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, chapter two. It took me a while to build up motivation to even get part of this done.  
> Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter of this! It really means a lot that you would give this the time of day and hopefully I wont take so long with the next one.

Distant rhythm of the drum  
As we drifted towards the storm.

* * *

 

Lukas may or may not be panicking. He honestly couldn't tell, it's not as if he panicked very often. His parents suddenly left him alone in the house to look after Emil, only telling him to not leave the house or open the door unless it was them or Mathias before disappearing. That had been almost an hour ago.

He looked around for what felt like the hundredth time since they had left. Not that there was much to look at. Their house was small. Wood walls covered in various ornaments and small paintings. Fur rug from the boar his father had killed last spring. A lit fireplace, the crackle of the flames breaking to silence surrounding him. Lukas stood up. Walked to the other side of the room. Back to the chair. Back to the opposite wall. He realized that he was pacing, but he honestly couldn't help it. On any other day Lukas would be immensely thankful for the calm silence, gods know he barely got any, with people like his father and Mathias around. But today, that quiet was unnerving, and anything but calm. Warning bells where going off in his head, they told him that something was wrong, something in the wind that whispered danger.

He tried to shake the feeling that was making him feel a bit sick and sat back down. Then stood back up. Then once again started to pace. Safe to say he was fidgety, couldn't stay still for more than three seconds and he swore that if something didn't break the silence soon he'd go mad.

"You're going to wear a hole in the rug if you keep that up."

Spoke too soon. Lukas turned, his gaze settling on his brother, who was staring at him in distaste. His anxiety was immediately replaced with annoyance as he remembered that he was, in fact, not alone in the room. Emil did nothing, obviously waiting for a reply. Lukas wouldn't give him that, it would only feed his already dangerously big ego. He sat down on the chair, this time trying to stay still and not tap his foot on the floor.

He failed at not tapping his foot on the floor.The nervous rhythm was actually a little soothing until Emil shot his head up from the book in his lap to glare at him.

"Tap your damn foot again and I swear I'll kill you." Emil ground out between his teeth. Lukas smirked internally. Annoying Emil had not been his goal but it was always rewarding all the same. If it had been a different time, Lukas might have teased Emil till he was red for his obviously empty threat, but before he could even open his mouth, there was a loud and frantic pounding on the door.

Both boys jumped a bit, startled. Lukas placing a hand on his chest in a useless effort to calm his erratic heartbeat. As if he wasn't already anxious enough.

He got up, walking towards the front door and standing just behind it, remembering what his mother had said before she took off. 'Open the door for no that isn't me, your father, or Mathias, alright?' He had waved her off and she tried to give him a kiss on the forehead, the struggle epic and short before she just sighed and gave him a smile before both her and his father took off. This train of thought led him to think of her goodbye to them, and the hug his father gave them both before they left, both too long and feeling to much like a final goodbye for comfort. With the bad feelings swirling in his gut and making him nauseous he suddenly wished he had not been so stubborn and had let her peck his forehead.

He stood directly behind the door now and he could feel the little needles of frost creeping through. He called out to whoever was on the other side of the door, cursing himself when his voice sounded much more weak and afraid than he had wanted it to.

"Why are you here and who are you?" He had tried to shout over the howling wind he could hear outside but it became more of a broken whisper the more words he spoke. Lukas ran a hand through his hair, not expecting a reply to his murmur. Which is why his heart almost leaped out of his chest when a very familiar voice called back,

"It's me. Open the door."

Mathias.

His voice only confirmed that that something was horribly wrong. The way Mathias spoke was too formal, too hurried, and far too desperate to mean anything but the worst. Lukas couldn't rip the the door open fast enough.

The bitter cold blasted through the second Lukas swung open the door, giving him a sudden chill where he had seconds ago been warm. He looked through the fast falling snow to see who had practically been trying to knock his front door off it's hinges. "Why are you here? Where are mother and father? Are they hurt? Is something wrong? Mathias, _what is going on?_ " His words basically poured out of his mouth, the fact that Matthias was the outside his door and not his parents made his stomach twist so severely he felt like he would throw up what little food he had in there.

The look in Mathias' eyes was terrifying. His eyes, blue as the sea, were clouded over with an emotion Lukas had only seen swimming in them once in his life. Fear. His heart practically dropped to his knees.

 

* * *

Mathias was not in the best state of mind, to say the least. He was freezing, terrified, and the flood of questions Lukas threw at him the moment he had practically ripped the door off it's hinges did not help. For a few moments they just stared, Mathias trying to make sense of everything swirling in his head and Lukas trying to read just from his expression whether to worse case scenario had come to pass. Mathias' stare was blank and distant, he no longer registered that he was standing ankle deep in fresh snow with frostbite quickly settling in when there was a fire just a few steps away. Some distant part in the back of his hazy mind noticed Emil in the house, sitting on the bed to the side of the front room that served as a place Mathias could sleep if he needed it. Mathias involuntarily looked away.

Lukas just kept staring intently, waiting for answers. His eyes were wide and desperate. Mathias knew what Lukas was thinking when he noticed him, knew what Lukas thought was happening, and by god Mathias would give anything to make him wrong. 

Lukas looked down suddenly, noticing that Mathias had his clearly bare feet stuck in the rising snow, and his eyes flashed in anger. A fist knotted in the front of his shirt, and Mathias was being forcibly dragged into the house before he could attempt to say a word. 

He stumbled in, entire body burning from the drastic difference in temperature. Emil was shooting both of them concerned looks, his book now closed and to the right of him and his brow furrowed. Mathias tried standing up straight, but it felt like he had anchors tied to him as he sunk to the floor, spreading out on the rug. It almost felt normal, casual. It felt safe and he felt warm. Being there felt like home. 

He heard footsteps coming towards him, and rolled his head to the left to see Lukas coming to stand over him. He gaze was like stone, an alarming mix of anger and fear swirling in his eyes like a hurricane. His face was schooled into his usual calm expression, but the frown was out of place and the heat and the fear and most importantly the overwhelming _anger_ rolled off his stiff figure in terror inducing waves. Mathias sighed and sat up, using the hand not holding him up to rub his face. He was to tired to be scared of Lukas though. He looked back at Lukas, only to see him pacing. Emil looked at both of them, exasperated and very frustrated, that much was clear. For a little bit of time they all sat in silence, Mathias trying to collect himself enough to speak, Lukas in the mists of a full blown panic attack, and Emil a few seconds from blowing his lid.

Emil then stood up, startling the other occupants of the room.

"Is anyone going to address the elephant in the room and tell us _what the fuck is happening?_ " 

Whatever trance Mathias seemed to have been stuck in he snapped out of violently. He shot up from the floor. "No, no, no ,no! Shit, shit, shit!," He walked around in a small circle, cursing up a storm and gripping onto his hair and tearing at it. Fuck!" he midly collected himself, just enough to walk across the room at a rapid pace. He stalked over to where Emil was on the bed, passing him by without a glance, heading straight for the trunk at the foot at the bed. Reaching inside and taking out a pair of fur boots, he yanked the left then the right one onto his slightly frostbitten feet. 

Lukas and Emil where only getting more confused and angerier with every passing second. Lukas stopped dead in his tracks, and Emil could see that his patience was quickly approaching its threshold with Mathias' vagueness. He took a breath in an effort to calm himself.

"Mathias," he took another deep breath before grinding out, " _open up your mouth and tell us what the fuck is happening. Now."_ His voice was anything but calm, quiet yet forceful and commanding.

Emil was surprised and more concerned with the situation than before. His parents were missing, and if his assumptions were right, dead, Mathias obviously knew something but refused to open his mouth while he was lost somewhere deep in his own head, and Lukas was using more serious cursing, which he only did if he was ready to bite someone's head off. Right now that person losing their head would be Mathias. Emil wouldn't object all things considered. This was far more complicated than it needed to be.

Mathias froze at Lukas' quiet outburst. Then he turned. And Lukas wished he hadn't. That was now the third time in his in his fifteen soon to be sixteen years of life that he had ever seen Mathias afraid, and that was terrifying in itself. Mathias being afraid. But what floored him was the tears gathering in Mathias' eyes as he opened and closed his mouth, trying to tell them what they needed to know but physically not being able to. Whatever was going on must be horrifying if it had Mathias in shambles like this. The knot of anxiety in his stomach once more made itself known.

Then something in Mathias changed. Something in his mind just visibly clicked. The tears dried up, his eyes hardened like metal, and he took a deep breath before continuing with whatever he was doing before Lukas called out to him, which Lukas now noticed was packing up whatever thing of his Mathias had in their home. Honestly, it was practically everything. Then, once he was done and had left both Lukas and Emil in silence, he spoke a full sentence for the first time since entering their home.

"Pack your things. Everything. Clothes, medicine, whatever food you have, personal things." He glanced at Emil after saying this."Pack everything essential first, then trinkets if there's room."

He walked back over to the trunk, looking through it's contents, though it wasn't much. A parka, some summer clothes, another pair of shoes, the odd children's book from his childhood. Everything in the trunk was deemed necessary. Mathias stood and picked up the trunk in one heave, his muscles clearly straining under his shirt. 

Boots now on his feet, he trudged out into the snow outside after nudging the door opened and dropped the trunk on the ground, the impact cushioned by the snow.  He listened. The faint sound of drums and disgusting howls could be heard in the distance. His frown deepened.

Lukas looked at him dumbstruck. Then his brow furrowed and he took long strides outside. Emil, followed, though angry with Mathias like his brother, couldn't help but feel bad for him. Lukas was out for blood.

"What kind of fucking answer was that?'" Is what Lukas lead with when he reached Mathias outside. He glanced at him before moving towards the line of trees just beyond the house. "Why aren't you packing, Lukas?" was the reply as Mathias dodged his question coldly.

"Because I'm not doing anything until you tell me what we're running from."

"I'll tell you as we leave."

His eyes became ice. "You will tell me _now._ " 

Emil stood a ways back. Observing.

"Shouldn't we be waiting for mother and father to come back before we leave? Wasn't that the plan?"

Emil watched Mathias' reactions to his seemingly innocent question. Lukas looked back at him, confused. Emil wasn't stupid, and Lukas knew that. His question was bait. And Mathias fell right into the trap.

He flinched. Eyes closed, he breathed in and out repeatedly before setting his mouth in a hard line.

"They aren't coming." 

Emil's expression didn't change as he asked, "Why?'"

Mathias lapsed back into silence. Lukas had had enough of silence. 

"Mathias-" He didn't finish his sentence because at the sound of his name Mathias exploded.

"We have to leave because your parents are going to die! alright, they're going to die," he glared at them in quick and intense anger, "and we have to leave because otherwise you're next."

There was a stunned and disbelieving yet to be expected silence. The worst case scenario was the scenario at hand and Lukas nor Emil knew how to handle it.

Lukas felt his gut twist in grief. He stepped towards Mathias' shaking figure. " _What's happening?"_

Mathias looked down and clenched his fists.

"Father Hellmuth." At the mention of the priest both Lukas and Emil sneered.

Mathias took another breath. "He has convinced everyone that your mother is a witch and he's using her as a scapegoat for the suffering and crop failure. For everything" He rubbed his face. "Your father killed a man protecting her."

Lukas took in a deep breath and walked another step, swallowing heavily. "Does that mean-"

Mathias nodded, cutting him off. His voice was grave and flat. "Your parents have been sentenced to burn." He looked up and his eyes lost their sharp edge. Now they were just sad. "I'm sorry."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry this took so long. And I was seriously not expecting almost thirty people to read at least some of the first chapter. So thank you, you repeatedly made my day and encouraged me to finish this as soon as I could.
> 
> This chapter was supposed to be "In the spring we made a boat" but I that fucked up along the way, sorry.
> 
> *edit: I literally edited the whole thing because typos and things I could have wrote better are things and they happened very often in this chapter. Also my beta reader kept pointing out that one scene is just full of innuendos and if you happened to catch them, they were unintentional and I'm sorry. Hope you had a laugh if you did.


	3. In the spring we made a boat

Baby lion lost his teeth,  
Now they're swimming in the sea.

* * *

 

The silence felt deafening, even though Lukas was aware deafening was the one thing silence couldn't be. Suffocating, yes. Heavy, that too. And at this moment it was all of these things. But silence, that's not noise, it can't block everything else out. Yet that's exactly what it's doing. All three of them just stood there, in the fast falling snow, which was not the worst to come if looking out at the approaching storm hanging over sea was any indicator. The weight of Mathias' words, though dreadfully expected in some part in the back of the brothers minds, stunned both of them into a kind of shocked silence. And in their shock and their silence, Lukas could feel the world slipping away from him. Lukas felt numb, a strange rushing sound filling his ears and cutting him off from Mathias and Emil. His vision became hazy as his brain kicked into high gear and finally started to process what he had been told. 

 _'Your mother, your father, kill, kill, Father Hellmuth, Burn, burn, burn, THEYWILLBURN.'_ His broken thoughts took a jerking right turn from whispers to unintelligible screams so loud he could feel his eardrums exploding. The voice screeching his parents fate eventually faded and he was dumped right back into this heavy suffocating silence and he couldn't stand it. His head was spinning and foggy, and all feeling was so muted. He needed to get away from here. To get away from this standing, and watching, and this fucking everlasting _silence._  He might even have to run, no, he most _definitely_   should run to where he was _actually fucking needed_. Where he could do _something_ instead of standing in a neverending limbo and most importantly, to where there was sound. Where he could find the ability to feel something, _anything_ , instead of a cold numbness.

He turned away from his brother and Mathias, his foot steps making a crunching noise that replaced the crushing emptiness surrounding them, if even for a fleeting moment. The sudden noise was startling but he was comforted by it nonetheless. He smiled, and couldn't put together why it felt wrong to do so. He took a few more steps away from Emil and Mathias. He needed more sound. More feeling. Less numb. Less silence.

Because Lukas just was so goddamned sick of silence.

* * *

Mathias was pulled out his reverie by the crunching of fresh snow.

He looked up just in time to see Lukas tearing down the road and he swore. Still cursing every god he could think of he turned to Emil, poor Emil, who was staring at his brother's retreating back as his entire life feel to shambles. Mathias felt hollow empathy. He could relate. 

He could barely finished thinking that thought before wanting to slap himself round the face for getting sidetracked. He looked back to where Lukas was, noticing that with the snowfall and Lukas' increasing distance, he could no longer see him and that was a problem. Mathias needed to find him before he goes and does something stupid and got himself, hell, got all of them killed. 

So he turned back to Emil, bending a bit and taking him by the shoulders even though he knew Emil despised when people did that, and shook him until he looked away from where his brother had disappeared and at Mathias' face.

His expression was so blank and lost, eyes wide and jaw slack, his arms feeling like deadweight, hands uncurled and plain useless at his sides. Mathias wanted to comfort the kid, take that disturbing far awayness out of his eyes and tether him back to earth, but he didn't have the time to do that. They didn't have very much of that right now, time. _Then why is it taking you so long to say something? Anything could be happening to Lukas right now, it doesn't take very long to get to the square. Or is it just that you're being your usual self? Completely and utterly useless._  The harsh sneer coming from somewhere in him sounded too close to _them_ and sent razor sharp spikes of fury through his shield of gentle caution.  

Mathias tightened his jaw and shook Emil again with more force, because during his pointless internal monologue Emil gaze had strayed back to the thin dirt road. Once he was looking at him again, Mathias spoke, blocking out everything else momentary with intent focus. 

"Emil, I need you to listen very carefully to what I'm saying." He didn't get a reponse, not even a nod. Fighting back the urge to yell at twelve year old right in their face, he ground his teeth together in a way which must not have been good for them and started again, forcing his tone of voice to be more commanding. This was not a time he could lose whatever little cool he still possessed. "Emil, I need you to focus and listen to me."  This time Emil nodded, his eyes clearing up their haze and becoming more focused on his face. Mathias felt a small burst of relief flood him as he continued. "You need to hurry and pack as much as you can, alright? Medicine, clothes, food, anything we might need. You have to pack essentials though, alright? The boat wasn't built to hold too much." 

Emil nodded again and moved to go back into the house, but Mathias kept his grip on his shoulders firm, not allowing him to leave just yet. Emil furrowed his brow at him and Mathias opened his mouth again to speak.

"Ma-" He swallowed down the bile in his throat and started over. " Make sure to pack your brother's stuff too, alright? I'm going after him, but I don't know when we'll be coming back so... yeah." He finished lamely.   _If we'll be coming back._

Emil looked at him as if what he just said might be the stupidest thing the boy had ever heard in his short life, and Mathias took comfort in his continued ability to insult him with a mere glance, using it as an anchor to keep him grounded in reality and not floating off into a cloud of panic. Leave it to Emil to always be recognizably himself, no matter what was happening.

Despite his apparent distaste with Mathias' last sentence, Emil nodded anyway, turning away to go in the house, grumbling something long under his breath, the snippets Mathias was able to catch sounding faintly like 'was gonna do that anyway, and 'I'm not stupid.' It was so typical Mathias felt like he could smile. But he didn't. He couldn't. Not now. And deep in his bones that felt utterly wrong. This feeling was one that he knew he would probably never get used to it, no matter how many times he encountered it.

Turning to go after Lukas, he almost missed Emil, a step or two from his front door, hesitate, then full on stop, hand suspended in air as if he were frozen. Halfway turned around and becoming increasingly anxious as he practically _felt_ the the seconds tick by, it took all of Mathias' willpower not to snap at Emil when he asked, his voice a bit strained even to his own ears, "Why did you _stop_?"

Alright, so very strained. 

Emil brought his shoulders up to his ears, something Mathias knew he only did when he was going to say or do something that he considered embarrassing. 

"W-when you said, when you said that thing before, about bringing personal stuff? Does that mean...?" Was the trailed off question, and Mathias was floored. At this point he had trouble remembering what his own name was through the haze of rapid events punching him in the gut one after the other, let alone remembering something he had said about bringing personal items back in the house, which in that moment seemed like a millenia ago. 

Emil blubbered on at Mathias' lack of response, though he was completely stationary. "I mean, you said it and you looked at me as you did so I thought that maybe that was permission, but I don't really know and I thought I'd ask before you found it in one of the trunks and decided to throw it in the ocean or something."

It took him a couple seconds the process the verbal stick Emil had just swung full force at his head, and about a minute before he pieced together what Emil was on the verge of yelling about. Then he was offended.

"Of course you can bring it. You've had the thing since you were born, why would I throw into the ocean?"

It was like someone had opened the floodgates that kept all that tension pent up in that small body of his, because Emil seemed to almost deflate as soon as he has heard 'Of course you can bring it'. The hand suspended in air finally came to rest at it's original destination, pushing the door open and letting it fall closed as Emil disappeared back inside the house.

One down.

Mathias lingered for a few moments, walking toward the line of trees and digging a boat semi covered in a fresh layer of snow out from the underbrush. He rested his hands on the smooth, flat top of one side, remembering how they spent all of last spring building it, him and Lukas and their father. He shook his head clear and grabbed onto the the front of the boat, dragging it towards the shoreline before leaving it there.

He walked away, that walk becoming a sprint as he made his way back the way he had come, heading towards the square and wishing that by all luck he may have somewhere deep down that Lukas wasn't doing something that could wind up in getting himself killed.

He had made a promise to Åse and to himself, and there was no way in hell he wasn't going to keep it.

One to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am aware that I am a horrible person that doesn't update for a week then uploads a super short and kinda shitty chapter to boot, but some stuff came up and no motivation and blah blah blah, excuses, excuses. I do hope that this chapter wasn't bad enough to put anyone off reading this, because I have so much more planned for this whole thing.  
> Honestly, I really didn't want to write this chapter, but I did and now it's out there.  
> Don't ask me how they haven't caught hypothermia by now, I'm pretty sure that so far it's only been like half a day so maybe it just hasn't set in. I don't know.


	4. Troubled spirits on my chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His face is morphed into something so terrified Mathias does what he asks without a word of protest, he leaves Lukas to die without doing anything to save him. He leaves his best friend to the murderous hands of the priest and runs. This isn't how this goes.

**_Troubled spirits on my chest_ **  
**_Where they laid to rest._ **  
**_The birds all left, my tall friend,_ **  
**_As your body hit the sand._ **

* * *

 

 _There was something wrong. He was running and Lukas was nowhere in sight. He was going back towards the house possibly. Alright, he was definitely going towards the house, he knew this route like the back of his hand, could find his way with his eyes closed, and he'd just passed the point where the shopping district ended and small houses began. But Lukas wasn't here with him and that's not how this goes. Mathias goes to the square and gets him and then they leave on the boat but Lukas isn't not here and he_ doesn't know where he is _and-_

_There's screaming. Lukas screaming. Screaming is out of character for him, making loud noises in general is strange when they're coming from him. He's screaming now however, it's hoarse and desperate, words blending together in a terrifying mix that he can barely understand, Lukas is screaming at Mathias to run, now, that someone's going for Emil and Mathias needs to leave him behind and run. His face is morphed into something so terrified Mathias does what he asks without a word of protest, he leaves Lukas to die without doing anything to save him. He leaves his best friend to the murderous hands of the priest and runs. This isn't how this goes._

__

_And Mathias is so, so confused but he's running towards the house anyways, lungs on the verge of collapsing, every breath of freezing air feeling like crystal knives of ice and he was too slow. He's pushing himself and the house was still so far away and there was light. Too much light to be coming from inside and he could see it now. He could see the Bondevik house and dear god it was on fire. Emil could be in there, burning to death._

__

_But Emil was outside, he saw, his small body convulsing in what Mathias thinks is a cough and platinum hair darkened with ash to a foreign gray. Mathias didn't know how he was even seeing this, he was so far yet he could see every little detail, saw everything from a thread on Emil's tattered sweater to the leer on the man behind him, the gleaming knife in his hand. There was a man coming up behind him. He pushed himself even harder and it might as well be punishing himself when everything hurt as much as it did._

__

_Mathias thinks Emil must have seen the man the same time he had, because he shrieks, sounding so much like the terrified child he is and not the composed adult he pretends to be and it hurts. Every fiber of his being aches for the boy and he yells, his voice mixing with Emil's and weaving a bloodcurdling melody._

__

_Then one part of their duet falls silent, the man grabbing him and bring the hand with the knife down on his throat, butchering him as if he were a pig. Emil falls, and Mathias finally reaches the house that's no more than a wide column of flame but he's too late, and the snowy headed boy in front him, face down but with his head turned to the side, eyes closed and face peaceful. Under his head the snow blooms a brilliant red and Mathias falls to his knees, denting the fresh layer on the ground beneath him._

 

 _T_ _here's the sound of snow crunching. He glances up though he knows what it is. The man had turned his attention towards him now. Mathias doesn't remember what he did in town, maybe the blacksmith, the would make sense with his muscular build. His mind wanders to his father, listing everything he could be when he grew older._

 

 _"_ _Blacksmith or farmer like yer old pa here. Could own yer own tavern, if ya wanted to. Hell, ya could be a knight for the king if ya felt like it! Yer life's clay in yer own hands Mathias, all ya gotta do is mold it how ya want an' don't ever let anyone else mold it for ya."_

 

_He had stared at his father in awe. "Did ya, dad? Mold yer's how ya wanted it?"_

 

_He hadn't noticed it then, when he was only a boy, but his father's smile had been strained, but there, shining even with its cracks "Ya bet I did." He ran a hand through Mathias' hair and used the other one to tickle his side till he was hollering, "Now let's get ya ta bed, ya brat." Mathias had stuck out his tongue and his father had laughed._

__

_The possible blacksmith was above him now, his gleaming knife raised, leer still in place, and Mathias stuck his tongue out at him. There was no laughter in return this time_

__

_He could have fought back, really. Even malnourished he was pretty strong, enough to put up a good fight at least. Emil tried to fight back. The kid had no hope of winning but he kicked and screamed and fought for his life anyhow. Mathias didn't. Mathias lets the knife swing down, and he does nothing to stop it._

__

_'I'm could never be a knight, Dad. I'm a coward."  His snort is bitter even to his own ears._

__

_Everything about this is wrong._

__

_And then it all goes black._

* * *

 

Mathias shoots up quickly, body heaving in an attempt to get some air. He feels his heart pounding in his chest, sweating buckets even in the poor insulated hastily built shack he currently calls home. He still feels a sicken wrongness in his gut, even after he sits there allowing him body to calm itself. There's not much going on in the dead of night. Getting up and sitting by the door thankfully provided nothing, people or otherwise. But it was even colder right by the door, so he soon made his way back to the bed of furs and laid back down. But it's quiet and dark and the nightmare comes back to haunt him when he allows himself to cry, triple checking neither Lukas nor Emil had shown any signs of waking. It's hard to keep his voice down, Mathias has always been an ugly crier, a pretty loud one too, and he goes outside not long after Lukas starts shifting. There wasn’t much outside, he noticed once he got out there. A clear night, no overhanging clouds. His tears got cold immediately and stung his face, wiping them off didn't help when they were only replace with new tracks a few seconds later. It was pathetic really, not crying once for years and suddenly it's all he can do. But he couldn't make them stop. _ **  
**_

There was the occasional breeze of chilled air that tickled his nose, probably cherry red by now with the crying and winter air, blowing strands of his hair in his eyes, a reminder he would need to cut it soon.

That realization was like a crash back to reality and he was now aware of his hair and it’s troubling length. Gravity defying, like it had been through several static shocks and was now permanently stuck rising upwards, is how Lukas had described his hair first thing’s first when they had met so many years ago. On a hot summer of green hills and chaotic festivals, big books of magical creatures and fairy tales and strange quiet boys with eyes of the ocean and skin forever pale as a spirit’s no matter how much time he spent in the sun. His hair is his pride and joy, what he was most proud of because it made him special is what his father always said. Certainly made Lukas notice him and that summer day turned out to be the best day of his life. Now it was a limp mess just hanging on the top of his head.

_‘There should be sizzors in the trunk. At least I hope so, otherwise I'll be fucked.’_

This train of thought leads to others as they always do. Others from years ago he doesn't want to even think about. It's when his thoughts echo it becomes less beautiful out and more empty, and the last thing he needed was empty. Back inside, everything was the same as he had left it, the brothers a huddled mass in the center of the room. He padded over to the bed of furs and laid down, physically and emotionally exhausted, mind foggy with the need to repair itself, but he was petrified of closing his eyes and emerging into a cold world of blood and fire. So he lay perfectly still in the dark and listened to Lukas and Emil breathe, took comfort in knowing they were safe. He fell into a light doze eventually, but it could be considered a miracle he drifted off at all.  

* * *

 

There was a strange sound and it broke him out of his light sleep instantly. Then is came again. An owl screech that reminded him too much of human screams. He shuddered. To his right there was another noise, a low whimpering, like the sound of someone in pain and it immediately set him on edge. Balancing his weight on one of his arms he reached above his head, fumbling blindly for a candle or the lamp on the cold dirt floor of the shelter. His hand grazed the hard glass of the lamp after while, the matches next to it not hard to find afterwards, and he quickly lit it.

The room was quickly flooded with dim light, just enough to see Lukas curled up with Emil held to his chest, their backs both turned towards him. Mathias found that odd, he and Lukas had been facing each other with Emil between them to conserve heat. But that oddity is the least of his worries. The whimpering was coming from Emil it looked like, still asleep but moving, like he was trying to get out of  Lukas’ arms and away.

Mathias shook Lukas’ arm lightly, seeking to wake him up and alert him to that was wrong with Emil, but Lukas turned his head immediately, his eyes already open and their normal cool blue stormy and worried. Mathias jumped and Lukas sat up, bringing Emil with him. Mathias followed his lead, sitting up completely and they soon sat facing each other, one a picture of confusion and the other of concern. Lukas opened his mouth to speak, voice lower and gravely with sleep and something else coating it, weighing it down.

“I think he’s sick.” It was said quietly, probably because he didn't want to chance waking the boy in his arms, carrying it’s normal coolness yet with almost indistinguishable undertones of panic and fear, something usually Mathias prided himself on being able to notice through years of not so silently picking apart Lukas’ mannerisms and silent meanings. Now his response, on the other hand, was far less calm.

“Don’t you think it could just be a nightmare?” His voice came out far louder and high pitched than he had expected and he flinched when Emil curled up into a tighter ball at the sound of it. Lukas shook his head slowly and moved his hand to rest tenderly on Emil’s forehead.

“He’s sweating and hot.” He was. Emil’s shirt was wet and he was still moving in his sleep as if trying to get away from Lukas’ body heat. Mathias felt a pit of worry growing in his stomach. In this weather even a cold could be fatal and even if Lukas was being trained as a healer before his mother died they didn’t have money to buy anything more than stale bread, let alone expensive medicines he would need if Emil got any worse. They didn’t even know how he was now considering he still hadn’t woken up there was no telling what state he was in. It was a while before either boy said anything, Lukas seemed quite content with holding his brother close while within his own mind and Mathias simply didn’t know what to say. It was only when Emil started breathing heavily did he break the silence.

“Should he wake him?”  

“No.”

“But-”

“Let him rest.” _I don't want him up._

Mathias bit his lip. “Okay.” Despite being skeptical, he wouldn’t argue. If there was nothing more they could do for him if they woke him that very moment, there would be no point in robbing the poor kid of his sleep. The silence hung back over them again, Lukas started a gentle rocking motion that reminded Mathias of when they were all much younger and Lukas would rock and hum and sing Emil to sleep when he was a barely passed infancy. He still fit for the most part in Lukas’ arms, his feet hanging off his lap but for his age he was pretty small. But in the same boat, so was Lukas back then and now he’s almost Mathias’ height.

This train of thought lead to others, and Mathias let himself be lost in his memories for a while, slowly they transitioned from noticing the brother's differences to days gone by to days spent with his head stuck in a book full of only words and no pictures for the first time when Bárekr taught him how to read, times Åse sowing his shirt back together after fights with one of the blacksmith’s sons followed by a scolding that didn’t actually put him off punching the blacksmith’s son square in the face. To his father reading him fairytales as the only way to get him settled enough for bed, carrying him on his shoulders during village festivals, trying to make his life a happy one even with the meager savings his father had, fond memories from the years before the war. Even the fondest memories cut like a knife, the ones involving his father cutting the deepest until he couldn't handle it any longer. He refocused his attention outside as opposed to inwards, seeking any distraction from his own mind, noticing the way lamp made the look of Lukas’ face harsher, his angles more severe, though his eyes a stark contrast, looking down at Emil with a softness absent everywhere else. Lukas himself was lovely and mesmerizing and dangerous, all those things merging into a person could cut you down with a glance but towards his brother and Mathias when he needed it, he could be comforting and safe like home. On the flip side of the coin, the pale light made Emil’s face softer and rounder. And even with the red flush across his face and the heavy breaths, this was the most childlike and peaceful Mathias had seen him in months. Childlike and peaceful, two words that couldn't be applied to Emil anymore normally.  He felt the need to draw them, or even better paint them, the contrast between sharp angles and soft curves. He couldn't, which was a shame, Lukas' face was one made for a canvas, and Emil's will be too one day, he can see it now. He can't paint them now, but maybe one day he would be able to. That thought was a happy one.

He noticed Lukas was humming now with the occasional word in the mixed along with the rocking and Emil had stopped fidgeting completely, slumped against his brother’s chest.

“I remember you used to sing to him.”  Lukas flicked his eyes up to meet his musing gaze in surprise at his sudden confession. It passed quickly, his face settling back into a mask of indifference.

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“Why not?” He doesn't mean to be condescending or cruel, merely curious, yet Lukas’ lips spread into a thin line.

“Because he’s no longer a child and doesn’t need me to sing to him. If he doesn’t need me too I have no reason to sing.” Hissed forcefully, further prying was obviously not welcome, but Mathias ignored the warning signs. There was something deeper with Lukas, past even his parents, something that centered around Emil. Maybe it was just the night talking or lack of sleep, but he needed to know. So he pressed on.

“ You're doing it now.” _Tell me what’s wrong with you._

“This is different.” _No._

“You still treat him as a child.” _What is it about Emil that’s eating you?_

Lukas snapped. “Mathias!” _This conversation is over._

"Look, I know there's something-" _Please._

And Lukas lost it. _"Shut your mouth or so help me god!"_ It was roared, Emil and his rest be damned.

Mathias shut up.

He didn't know how much time had passed, it could have been five minutes or it could have been fifty, but he felt a need to ask despite knowing what the answer would be and the fact Lukas has been silently fuming ever since the abrupt end to their conversation. Only he never got to.

“What about you?”

Mathias’ eyes widened. “What about me?”

The cold blue stare moved from the wall behind him to his face and it had him pinned. “I heard everything.”

He screwed up his face. "Everything?" Lukas glanced at the door so quickly Mathias might have imagined it. "Was awake before." He murmured, running his fingers through Emil's hair "Heard everything."

_Oh._

It must have shown on his face he understood because Lukas nodded quickly, like extra confirmation what he's thinking is what Lukas meant. Mathias frowned. Just thinking about it is horrible, he doesn't think he could make it through describing it. Images of flame and blood, leers and knives flash across his memory and there’s a weight on his chest, it’s troubled and it's heavy and now it’s harder to breathe.

 _“..thias?...athias?_ Mathias!” Loud.

“What?” Lukas frowned.

“You were breathing heavy. It’s like you blacked out.” He furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”

“I don't wanna talk about it.” He mumbled. Lukas looks shocked, as he probably should be, the Mathias he knew was almost always blunt about anything that was troubling him. The Mathias Lukas knew would have jumped right into explaining everything. But he wasn’t that Mathias, at least he didn’t feel like him, just a hollowed out version of himself trying his hardest to hold onto who he is. So Mathias stares Lukas straight in the eye.

“We've both got something we don’t want each other to know. You've got yours and... this,” he makes a noncommunicable gesture towards himself, “is mine.” _Drop it, please_.

Lukas opened his mouth as if to say something but thought better of it last minute, pressing his lips together before nodding. There's more silence, until Mathias couldn't take it anymore, asking for the sake of filler rather than an actual desire to know considering he knew Lukas too well to not know the answer.

“Are you going back to sleep?"

The response was immediate. “No.”

He swallowed the bile in his throat and nodded. “Alright.”

Quiet descended on the two again, heavy and awkward. Mathias decides to lay down, it was oblivious neither of them were going to answer the other's questions and it seemed it was pissing both of them off. But he couldn’t sleep, sleep was a huge mountain he did not want to climb in fear of what was waiting on the other side.

When just laying there was starting to drive him on the brink of insanity, it was Lukas, avoiding his gaze by staring intently at the wall, who broke the silence.

“Will you?”

The sudden question startled him, but he got his bearings and answered.

“No.” Another nod.

In the dim light of the lamp, Mathias is content with observing Lukas again, all sharp lines, shadows and tender eyes, beautiful in all the ways broken glass softened by years and seawater is beautiful, sharp and soft, a contradiction, listening to his soft tenor comfort his little brother until the sun rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is horrible I'm so sorry, I'm horrible, this story's horrible, why do you people read this?? But finally it's here. Chapter five shouldn't be too far off I swear on my mum.


	5. Baby lion lost his teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn't weak. Mathias was fearless, because he had to be, he absolutely had to be.
> 
> And he has never been so scared.

_Things came to Mathias in flashes. The boat. Emil. Pain. He can't see Emil. Emil can't swim. Water being forced down his throat. It burns. The man on the beach. His stomach hurts. He's sinking._

__

**_Hold on._ **

__

_His mouth opens and tiny bubbles of air leave him. He curls an outstretched hand as if to grasp them and get them back. Black starts to filter into the edges of his vision._

__

**_Hold on._ **

__

_He keeps sinking deeper, further. His limbs may as well be lead, they're heavy and feel useless, moving even a finger takes so much out of him. He can still see his hands floating in front of him, and the black waters surrounding him everywhere else._

__

**_Hold on._ **

__

_He closes his eyes when he can't find the strength to keep them open. He dimly notes they don't really burn anymore._

__

**_Hold on._ **

__

_He feels his lungs constrict painfully in a desperate attempt for air where there is none. The water rushes down his throat._

__

**_Hold on._ **

__

_His mouth forms silent words only he can hear_.

"I can't."

* * *

 

It was safe to say he didn’t sleep much these days. Well, slightly inaccurate, for it was an anomaly if he could even drift off in the first place. But on the rare nights he did, he was always woken by a nightmare in the dead of the night, shooting up from the bed of the furs near screaming, the only things holding his voice back from breaking free was most likely some instinctual part of him that was always aware that Lukas and Emil were in the room and that they were sleeping and that he mustn't let the sounds trying to break out escape lest he wake them. **  
**

So every night he slipped on his boots, took a walk until the tears stopped falling and the bile in his throat settled, then stood until the all consuming fear loosened it’s grip just enough that the knot in his chest could relax and he could feel himself breath again. Only then would he let himself go bad to the shelter, taking the walk that always seemed to grow longer as the nightmares grew worse and it took longer to collect himself.

He only allowed himself to turn back when he had convinced himself that the cold seeping through his clothes and slowly making him go numb, the sting of frigid air in his lungs, and the pounding in his chest all meant that he was alive, that it was just a nightmare, that he didn’t die that day, and then he’d spend the rest of the walk back convincing himself that neither of the brothers died that day, and that they’re all alright and at the very least breathing.

He would never really truly convince himself of that until he got back and saw them, still lying there, chests rising and falling in near perfect unison. It comforted Lukas, he had been told once by Åse, “To put a hand on his chest and match their breaths until they’re in sync. It helps him sleep on nights he can’t. But don’t tell him I told you that, I’d never hear the end of it.” She had said, voice a mindful whisper behind her hand, mirth lighting up her eyes. Åse had ended that night with a wink and push towards the stairs, calling out “Look what we put for you downstairs!” behind him. That was the day they added the bed in the main room for him, so he wouldn’t have to sleep in the cold, empty house halfway across town, at least not every night. That bed had burned that day, along with everything else in that house they didn’t have room for in the boat. And as he had watched it burn, Mathias felt as if he was watching his life burn with it.

 

* * *

 

The trek into to town and to Mr. Väinämöinen’s toy shop was always a long and a hard one, and dragging himself off the soft furs in the early hours of the morning, whether his body had given up on him and passed out or he had just been lying there for who knows how long staring into the darkness was surprisingly the easiest part.

Walking past the people in this village was. The first thing they notice about the village whose shore they landed upon was that it had been significantly less affected by the war than theirs had. The second thing they noticed was that it was less of a village and more of a city, taller buildings, more noise, and more people, more people than any of them had probably seen in their entire lives. Walking through the cramped streets was close to hell for Mathias. The community was small and close knit where he came from, and when seeing so many steely cold faces every morning, walking past with barely a hello or an apology to anyone they happen to bump into, made him ache for home, even if home was by now a pile of ash and that village is the very last place he’d ever want to step foot in. Maybe the ache was for somewhere that felt like home. But what even was home anymore?

The toy shop was smack dab in the middle of the downtown area as he had learned it was called. Where by just his luck, there were the most people and the most crowds. He could practically feel himself sticking out like a sore thumb, amongst these fancily dressed misters and ladies speeding up and down the roads, he probably looked like a street rat, covered in dirt and grime and some other layers of things he couldn’t trace. So he kept his head pointed firmly towards the ground, not having to worry about running into anyone with the way the people manouvered around him, but he looked up from time to time anyways though his overly long hair, his father had taught him basic manners after all. Or he had at least tried.

Getting to the store was always such a relief that Mathias almost always forgets the hell that awaited him inside those cheery red walls. That never lasted long unfortunately, and his more limbs would burn with just the prospect of what he would have to do once he stepped inside. He always hesitated, because he always went home with burning limbs and dropping eyes he was scared to close at the end of each day, but he dreaded staying outside with the city’s thousands of eyes judging him all at once with harsh stares more. So he would swallow down his reluctance, let duty take over thoughts, because he knew he’d walk in the store and do anything that was asked of him, couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t. Not when he owed the man in that shop his life.

**  
**

* * *

 

 

Tino Väinämöinen was not at all how he expected him to be when Lukas told him that he owned a toy store. He expected a kindly old man that spent his free time playing with the children he spent his life making toys for, not a short yet broad man with a surprisingly deep and gentle voice and kind, alive, eyes. The first time Mathias walked into the store after he had recovered enough to walk, the man had dropped everything he was doing the moment he saw that it was him who had walked through the door, speed walked around the counter, and before Mathias could finish his thought about every single person seeming to walk at breakneck speed as the default in this city, there was a thick and warm hand holding his chin and dragging his head downwards, allowing the smaller man the examine his face. Once he got an answer he was satisfied with from staring every intently into Mathias’ eyes for a good three minutes like that would tell him Mathias’ physical state all by itself, he nodded, face breaking out into a soft grin, sticking out his hand. **  
**

“The name’s Tino Väinämöinen, nice to finally met you when you’re not unconscious and bleeding out on my work table.”

 

 

* * *

 

**  
** If Tino was a surprise, Mathias might as well have been punched in the stomach when he met Berwald. For one, Lukas hadn’t mentioned him, so either when Tino was working on him he wasn’t there or Lukas just didn’t notice him. Which, to Mathias didn’t make sense, because two, Berwald was a fucking giant. It’s not that he was abnormally tall, though tall is certainly something he is, but the sharp angles and harsh planes of his face mixed with his structure and height make the man seem to tower over you, even Mathias, and they couldn’t have been too far apart in height. It was that first impression that made Mathias dislike him just so, because next to Berwald and his intimidating face, Mathias felt small and dwarfed, and those were two things he did not allow himself to feel. When he told Lukas about it, he just said that Berwald threatened him, and some part of Mathias realized that yes, that’s exactly what it is and Lukas is why too smart for his own good, but the majority of him only recognized the dislike he felt for Berwald, though Mathias didn’t act on it right away. **  
**

When he got into the swing of things and got at least remotely comfortable doing some heavy lifting around the shop, he decided to test the waters with Berwald and his emotions. It started out small, refusing his help when offered rather than staying silent and letting him, harshly insisting he knows how to carry things thank you very much. That got an irritated scrunch of the face out him. When being passive aggressive got boring Mathias stepped it up a notch, and quickly it became his main source of entertainment, let’s see if we can get Berwald to show more emotions than indifference or mild irritation became a necessary passtime.

It had only almost worked once, well considering the objective it did work, but it didn’t leave Mathias very satisfied by the end of it. All he did was insult the doll house Berwald was working on, just to see if the pride in his work translated into anger defending it. Turns out, the answer it a good, strong yes, as Berwald looks like he was more than ready to acquaint his fist with Mathias’ face, or anywhere on his person really. And Mathias does not doubt for a second he would have too, had it not been for Tino’s conveniently timed call for Berwald’s help in the opposite room, which calmed down his facial features and took tension out of his shoulders almost immediately. If there was another thing that Mathias learned at the Punainen Nukke other than dolls may be light, but a whole crate of them now is anything but, and that Berwald is very  hard to understand and piss off and may be only able to show three emotions on any given day, is that Tino works as a sort of tranquilizer to Berwald’s emotions, or the really more violent ones. Berwald would never throw a scene in front of Tino, Mathias bet’s he’d rather give his arm or his eyes he already wears glasses for than have Tino think of him as violent.       

* * *

 

As Mathias got to know these people he liked them more, he didn’t find the atmosphere tense and silent, but full of laughter and gentle conversation, over the months as he’s recovered and gotten better Tino stopped sending him worried glances over his shoulder, the pinched look left his brow when Mathias stopped wincing when he twisted or bent to pick something up wrong. As the new year came and passed he even stopped hating Berwald as much, which meant no more insults about his furniture, not that Mathias could do it anymore after Tino could him on time. The man was scary when he was angry. Things were looking up. At the Punainen Nukke.   

 

* * *

 

Emil was only getting worse by the day and neither of them knew how to handle it. Lukas was talking less and less, more often than not Mathias would turn to tell him something and find him either staring at Emil or staring into space. And Emil. He hadn't opened his eyes for days now. There were times before when he would be awake at least, able to lean against his brother and chew the stale bread the baker's wife gave Mathias after he helps her clean the shop. He could drink then too, gulping down water like a man that hasn't seen it for years. But the world around them only got colder, and with it Emil only got more ill. He never told Tino however, they agreed that they’d rush Emil to Tino if his condition dropped into life threatening territory, but until then, all they could do is take care of him and hope. With barely enough money to buy some leftover cheese and bread from the old woman close by, and Mathias still paying off Tino for saving his while giving him a small salary on the side, there was no way in hell they could afford to take Emil to a doctor. And that knowledge put a little pin in the back of his mind, a constant itch of guilt and fear that never left, knowing he could come back to the shelter any day now and another member of their small, broken family could be gone.

And Lukas was miserable. Mathias didn't even have to ask, all the things on his mind showed on his constantly furrowed brow, in his deep frowns. So much has happened in so little time and it was weighing on him, and the worst part for Mathias was knowing there was nothing he could do about it. There was nothing he could do for Lukas, there is nothing he could do for Emil. He couldn’t even give Lukas a smile and tell him it’s alright, that they’re all gonna be fine and pull through like always. How can he say that to someone he loves when he can't even reassure himself of the same damn thing?

The thing was, Mathias was never a person who cried often. When he was small, he was tough, he was strong, he was known as the kid that could get into a brawl and come out with bruises everywhere and dry eyes. Before the war, that was only outside, and he'd sobbed his little eyes out the second he stepped through the door while his father fussed over him and tried to patch him up as best as he could. Then he met Lukas, and in no time at all it was Åse fussing over him when his father couldn't be there to do it himself. After the war though, Mathias stopped crying entirely. The looks Lukas would send him were worried and he hated it, he hated his pity even if Lukas did mean well. So he never cried. Didn't show fear, molded himself to where fear and violence made him excited and not afraid, a good fist fight made his blood sing. He never felt more alive than when he was pinned to the cobblestones getting ready to punch the lights out of the person holding him down. And he would come out of it, every time, with bruises and dry eyes. Crying was weak, it made him feel weak, powerless, so even with everything, with all the things closing in slowly, quickly, and every speed in between, all the fear and all the pain, one thing he'll make sure stays the same. Those dry eyes will stay dry. He wasn't weak. Mathias was fearless, because he had to be, he absolutely had to be.

And he has never been so scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no words to explain. I am sorry. Three months, took me almost three full months. I'd be surprised if anyone cares about this story anymore but if you still give a shit, thank you. This is an chapter for explaining things, it'll be fleshed out more and the plot will get a move on next chapter, and there a little something I have planned that I'm excited for. 
> 
> But look, Tino and Berwald! The shop name means red doll, one of my favourite nordic fics by the way, check it out if you like mystery stories. And Peter will show up, just next chapter.
> 
> And too anyone wondering, it's been about two months since they left their village, and maybe one whole month since Emil got sick, so it's early to mid January, if you needed the time frame.


	6. Now they're swimming in the sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the sky fills to its brim with stars.

_It was dark now, but he doesn’t know when the sun had set. All he remembers with any clarity is the boat capsizing and the wave washing over him before he was underwater and he couldn’t breath. Now, he doesn’t know where he is, but he knows he’s on land, he can feel the solid coldness under him. From where he is on the ground he can see the sky, though right now it’s a blurry mass he can barely make out through half lidded eyes._

  _It takes a few moments for Mathias to register the body next to him, gasping for air. He notices how warm they are, and it feels nice, it’s comforting, though in the fog that is his mind he can’t really think of why._

  _But before he could do anything, though he doubts he would be able to even if he had the time, the person moves, taking their warmth with them, and there’s another set of coughing coming from a few more feet away, higher in pitch and louder, which probably means there’s two other people with him on this beach._

_‘Where are we?’_

  _Then there's a voice speaking, hoarse and what Mathias can only think of as alarmed, asking a flurry of questions to another voice who answers in the same tone of hurried panic._

_'Who are they?’_

  _Almost as if remembering something it had forgotten, his lungs start forcing up water, even if Mathias could vaguely remember already doing so. It was strange how much he had forgotten, everything before had been a blur of pain and water, water everywhere, surrounding him. He thinks it's only natural that his body wants it out._

  _The voices start to get closer,and there's warm hands on his face and his shoulders, shaking him, when all he wants to do is give into what his body wants of him, every bone in his body tells him to close his eyes, for just a little bit more, then he’ll feel better and it won't hurt anymore._

  _‘Just close your eyes.’_

  _But whoever it was wouldn’t let him, they kept disturbing him in someway, putting up a wall in between Mathias and unconsciousness. The person is making noises that Mathias can’t make out, their words bleed together, but the sounds themselves are so desperate and.. well the closest word Mathias can think of is scared, which hurts more than whatever is happening to his stomach. It’s so familiar too, whoever it is makes his body react to them, it makes his eyes want to open despite how exhausted every other part of him is, almost if every nerve in his body has been jolted awake and is fighting out of the dark toward them with all he’s got._

  _I_ _t’s then that he can feel his lungs take in air again, the air becomes bitter cold, and the world bursts back into colour._

  _Like a carriage going full speed, his vision comes rushing back to him, and he can seeing Emil to his right, crying his eyes out. And then there’s Lukas, with tears on his face too, and it makes Mathias’ hand itch to reach out and wipe them off. Lukas shouldn’t be crying. Neither should Emil. They’re crying because of him aren’t they? That’s no good, he beats up the people that make them cry, how is he gonna kick his own ass?_

  _“I’m sorry,” is all he can think to rasp out, trying at least the tiniest bit to make up for whatever surely stupid thing he did to cause them such distress._

  _At that Emil let’s out a wail, and though Mathias braces himself for being hit or even a string of “stupid”s, the kid just curls up into a ball next to him, holding his arm in a death grip._

  _Lukas is crying, but he’s also smiling, his entire being visibly overwhelmed with so many emotions, it doesn’t even register to Mathias at the moment how strange it is that he could see all of them so out in the open. Fear, anger, sadness, relief. It lights up his face in a way Mathias has never seen._

 

_“You’re an idiot.”_

_And the sky fills to its brim with stars._

 

* * *

Sometimes, when it's the early hours of the morning, there tends to not be much on his mind. Everything just, melts away, troubles seem so distant he starts to wonder why he even worries in the first place. Of course he know why, there's no way he could forget, but for a while, the weight isn't as crushing.

 But then other nights in the early hours of the morning, his heart is pounding in his chest so hard he can feel it all throughout his body and he's so thoroughly consumed by fear he almost forgets how breathe. That's only after the nightmares come and flood his mind with his greatest fears and his worst truths. There have been to many times where the line between unconscious fears and reality became so blurred it takes him until the sun rises to separate them again. It's been getting harder.

 On those nights this is usually the time he dedicates to walking outside, using the time to convince himself that most of the nightmare was just a nightmare, that he isn't going to wake up one day and remember that Lukas and Emil are dead and that he's truly all alone now. But on a night like this, where the world, and especially his mind, are by some miracle quiet, it's around this time that he pretends with every fiber of his being that the other nights don't exist. It's been getting easier.

 It doesn't seem to matter how non violent one of his dreams are, he never wants fall asleep after them, he’d keep his eyes open until his body gives out on him. And for possibly the first time, he's thankful of that, because it gives him enough time to question the dream itself. One, because it was a dream, and not a nightmare that makes Mathias want to puke out his lungs. And two, because there wasn't anything glaringly wrong. It was probably the most grounded in reality dream he's had since they left home, and that scares him more than anything for reasons he can't explain. So he ignores it. For now, it'll be shoved into the back of his thoughts where it will hopefully gather dust before he has to wipe it off and actually deal with it. Probably not the best way to handle things, but he can tell that train of thought would only take his quiet mind and shake it till it screams. So instead of thinking he listens.

 He listens to his family's breathing, Lukas' steady in and out, and the rattling coming from Emil's chest. The latter is a sound that pains him, but also a sound he holds onto like it’s his life line. Because it might as well be, it means that Emil is hurting, but he’s still breathing, and most importantly it means that he's still alive. And it has an effect on him that feels like something akin to peace of mind, however fleeting it may be. And along with it, the gentle and blessed quiet that settles around him along with a curious lack of bad things swimming around his mind leaves him feeling something akin to being home.

 Mathias feels like a piece of him was left in that water, a chunk of himself abandoned in a blue abyss of water and pain. Perhaps it was the part of him that belonged back home, with carefree summer days and the feeling of a warm calloused hand in his hair. The house that was the closest thing to home is probably nothing but ash by now, and waking to a place as different as this where they lived now felt like waking to a different world entirely. There’s an ache, deep in his chest, a telling feeling of something gone missing, but he knows that with how he is now whatever it is would no longer fit in it’s space.

 People are ever changing puzzles, and certain pieces go missing and come back, only to no longer fit snuggly in the hole it once did. This piece wasn’t coming back, he knew that probably better than he knew anything else, but knowing that didn’t change anything, and he didn’t have something to fill the hole in his puzzle. He wasn’t even sure if he was brave enough to try to build a piece that could.

 Mathias falls asleep eventually, and the dreams, or the nightmares, don’t come back. The next day he tells Lukas a corny joke and grins when the other boy smiles for the first time in months. It was tiny, and cracked, but there. And they laughed.

It's getting easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I hope you'll understand how good it feels to finally put this up. Though I have a confession, I've had this entire chapter done since October, but I didn't update since I kept trying to add more after another longer than I'd ever hoped for or wanted break, and someone finally kicked my ass into gear and told me is was good even if by my standards it's kinda short, so you have them to thank for that. 
> 
> It's just a big sigh of relief to finally get this chapter out, especially with the one year anniversary of this fic only two weeks away. God, one year... I remember being so happy about thirty views and now it's got just about three hundred! But that's enough of my rambling, here's three things you'll need to know. 
> 
> One, since I did in fact take so long trying to write more for this chapter, chapter seven is already about a third done, and I'm going to try to make it for the one year mark! 
> 
> Second, chapter seven is also when I plan on explaining just about everything, so for anyone whose worried about that, don't be, it'll be here soon, plus there's gonna be two or three surprises I hope you'll like.
> 
> And three, to everyone's whose held on for this stupidly long and tiring year with this story that is only now getting a plot, thank you. It really does mean the world to me, and even if I can't really read my stuff with fresh eyes and I'm definitely biased in my opinion of it, I am so happy to be able to write something even one person enjoys wholeheartedly. Thank you again!


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